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Demonatachick Mar 2017
.                        Thin as a rake
                         No food intake
                      Endless heartache
                        I won't partake,
                     More time does slip
                         Life on a drip,
                      Alone in my head
                       Confined to a bed,
                    
                      My time is passing
                    Unwaivering fasting
                       Mother is crying
                       Body atrophying,

         To my family lying,
                                 That all will be ok.

Though this body will not see the sunrise of another day.
Kübler-Roѕѕ
Demonatachick Mar 2017
Glaring at the sun as the sun glares back, losing sense of time, my minds lost track, words are all that's left as I piece them in my brain.

                     ˙ǝuɐsuᴉ ʎpɐǝɹlɐ ɯ,I
             ssǝupɐɯ sᴉɥʇ ʇɥƃᴉɟ ooʇ ǝʇɐl oʇ
solar retinopathy
Demonatachick Feb 2017
Warmth is what we crave, our hearts fuel to the fire, caressing one another's flesh, taking each other higher, fight my bruising kisses, let me tease you as I mar, that which I do worship, every heartbeat, every scar, cage my hand inside yours, hold me tighter than you dare, constrict around my heart my love, it's open and it's bared.
For you, always.
Demonatachick Feb 2017
Between day and night, choose fight or flight, hide out of sight, shield from the light.

Cocooned in our beds, words trapped in our heads, a poets mind is forming, ideas begin their swarming.

Not conforming
              Lines deforming
                        Minds contorting
                                       Rhymes consorting.
May add more to this later
Demonatachick Feb 2017
What does happen in the night?,
where restless youths beg for a fight,
where women with all dignity lost, will sell you their services at a cost,

where men will pay for their hunger to sate and tell their wives they're coming home late, where knowing wives are sat at home, waiting by the telephone, hoping he has done what's right, but that's not what happens in the night.

The children cower in their beds, the fear of the night sat in their heads, imagining monsters, causing fright, but that's not what happens in the night.

The children do not know, why mothers eyes are red, why father is not home, tucking them into bed, but father is still searching for that which will excite, for this is what happens, in the absence of light.
Found inspiration for this, on a late night bus ride that was an hour and a half long

Edit: I don't agree with the line dignity lost but it just fit poetically, I 100% support *** workers in any form
Demonatachick Feb 2017
You cannot break the broken, you can't live in the past, throw that memory away, you cannot let it stay, oh I wish I had the power to change every wasted hour, to knock down this growing tower under which I fearfully cower, in my ball of self regret.

             
                    I can remember:

                Tears that I have shed.

                 Lies that I have said.

                 Pain I have inflicted.

              Oh how I feel conflicted.


But know now this, for it is true, for all the things I can't undo, I'd never regret loving you.
No sleep = creativity, how does that work?
Oml this made the daily poem, thank you so much everyone!!
Demonatachick Feb 2017
.       What can you do, fight being you?
        Who can I be, if I'm not being me?
      Where can I go if I don't belong home
      Where can i turn when I feel so alone.

I cannot confide, I have too much to hide
I cannot push further what's deep down inside, I protect you from me and the troubles I bring I won't weigh you down I won't let you drown.

I will not let you share the worries that I bear, I will not let you see, the cracked doll that is me.
If you can't see it, turn the title upside down
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